Page 38 of Death at the Deep Dive

Tackle laughed at Ellery’s glare, turned without haste and sauntered down the steps.

As he walked past Ellery’s VW, he tapped the passenger window, driving Watson to still greater fury.

ARF! ARF! ARF!

Tackle laughed and kept walking. Ellery watched him climb into his battered Ford pickup, roar the engine a few times, and then deliberately screech around the halfmoon drive, kicking up gravel and dirt, before tearing off down the road.

“You ass.” Ellery watched Tackle’s taillights fade into the twilight.

When he was sure Tackle was done for the evening, he went to the VW and let Watson, who was beside himself by that point, out of the car.

“I’m sorry, buddy. But I don’t trust that guy.” It was only too easy to picture Tackle giving a yappy little dog a hard, swift kick into the afterlife.

Watson leaped into Ellery’s arms, whining and licking his chin.

“I know, I know.” Ellery kissed the top of his head. “You would have been a big help. This was no reflection on you and your security team. You run a very tight ship.”

It seemed Watson had finished lodging his formal protest because he began to wiggle to be let down. He sprang away, racing up the driveway, barking at approaching headlights.

Ellery felt a flare of alarm, but the next moment he recognized the mutedhumof Jack’s SUV. He whistled to Watson, lest, in the fading light, he be run over by his hero, and Watson raced back, running in circles around Ellery.

“Yep. I see him,” Ellery murmured.

Jack pulled up beside Ellery’s VW. The SUV’s headlights flicked off, the radio fell silent, the engine died. Jack got out, greeting Watson, who proceeded to explain recent events at the top of his lungs.

Ellery went to meet Jack.

Jack kissed him hello, but it was on automatic pilot. “Was that Tackle Shandy?”

“Mm-hm. He was trying to warn me off the case.”

Jack’s expression was a study, and Ellery laughed. “It’s okay. It was mostly bluster.”

Jack didn’t look reassured. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s all bluster and no beef.”

Ellery did his best, how-very-dare-you, “Pardon me?”

“You know what I mean. Shandy’s got poor impulse control and the brainpower of a minnow. Don’t forget, this is someone who did prison time for manslaughter.”

“I’m not forgetting. It’s not my first run-in with Tackle.”

“Exactly. And with that kind of guy, familiarity breeds contempt.”

“To tell you the truth, I think Tackle was upset because he just realized his father committed murder fifty-nine years ago.”

Jack stared. “You’re telling me, you think Rocky Shandy killed his cousin Vernon?”

“I think Tackle thinks so. And I think Vera is afraid it’s so. I don’t know. It’s possible in that Rocky is one of the few people at that time who could have known that Vernon had found gold doubloons. And he doesn’t sound like the most upstanding of citizens.”

“No,” Jack said slowly.

“But also, it seems like if Rocky or another family member killed Vernon, the rest of the family would have figured it out by now.”

“Maybe.” Jack seemed unconvinced of that.

“And, would Rocky be dumb enough to kill Vernon without actually having the coins in his possession?”

Jack made a nix-that-idea noise. “This is entirely speculation. You have no idea under what circumstances such a crime would have occurred. It might have nothing to do with pirate’s gold. It could have been two family members falling out over something completely unrelated.”

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